"I carried my crossover all the way into the Hall of Fame. So, there you go." - Allen Iverson

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Huh, I can't believe that ended up going poorly for Tim Hardaway. I would have thought that taking an unprovoked shot at a more popular and accomplished player by retroactively accusing him of the most ignored violation in all of sports in order to glorify his own importance to basketball would have went swimmingly. As it turns out, when the target of your criticism is athletically superior to you in nearly every single way it makes it mighty easy for him to return fire. I could be wrong, but I never considered Allen Iverson to be the most clever guy in the world and he was able to eviscerate Tim Hardaway with a spur-of-the-moment pun. If that doesn't speak to how easy it was for the 'The Answer' to step on the throat of the guy that tried to snatch his crown as the King Of Crossovers then I don't what does. Rest in peace, Tim Hardaway. Your defense of your 'Killer Crossover' ironically got you internet murdered.

P.S. He might actually have a point, but any time you complain about an NBA player carrying the ball like that's not something that has been widely accepted for a long, long time then you lose credibility. Especially when you have a (admittedly unrelated) history of homophobia.

ESPN- Riley flew home worried and got a text telling him to be ready for a call. About 15 minutes later, his phone rang and Paul was on the other end. The agent handed the phone to LeBron, who started by saying, "I want to thank you for four years ..."

"I was silent," Riley says. "I didn't say anything. My mind began to just go. And it was over. I was very angry when LeBron left. It was personal for me. It just was. I had a very good friend who talked me off the ledge and kept me from going out there and saying something like Dan Gilbert. I'm glad I didn't do it."

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Can you imagine if Pat Riley, of all people, turned into a spiteful teenager in response to losing a superstar player? Like, it's one thing for the owner of a small market franchise that stands next to no chance of success without a player like LeBron James on board to write an impassioned letter to his fanbase that is chalked to the gills with falsehoods and irrational expectations. Whether or not you believe that Dan Gilbert was right to air out a player for exercising his right to free agency, it was undoubtedly a business savvy move to throw a former employee under the bus in order to inspire fans of a then hopeless team.

But Pat Riley? The President of a team whose location always makes them an attractive suitor? The guy who has won eight championships as a player, coach, and executive? The evil genius that was somehow lucky enough to benefit from the collaborative efforts of three NBA superstars? If he had gone off the rails and started shamelessly bitching about losing LeBron in the exact same fashion in which he got LeBron to the organization from which LeBron originally came? Man, not only would that be a testament to LeBron's importance, but it would come off as insufferable, condescending nonsense. We probably shouldn't have felt bad for the billionaire that owns the Cleveland Cavaliers when it looked like his investment was set to lose a shit ton of money, but - in terms of being sympathetic - Dan Gilbert in 2010 was basically a homeless war veteran compared to Pat Riley at any point in his professional career.

Unless you find rooting for a player that once physically disciplined his child by bloodying his groin to be a massive moral dilemma then I'm not sure how a Saints fan could disagree with this move. Adrian Peterson just accepted a backup role that was previously manned by someone that spent 3 years out of football. All due respect to Tim Hightower because his perseverance is something we should all strive for, but this is unquestionably an upgrade. New Orleans just signed a future Hall of Famer that has proven to be a physical freak that's capable of overcoming serious injury, and they did so at a price that resides somewhere between "rookie contract" and "Bilal Powell".

Now, there's no guarantee that AD comes close to displaying the type of explosiveness that made him one of the few must-watch runners in the league, but as a measure of insurance in a passing offense he doesn't even have to. If his presence alone forces defenses to temporarily forget that the person potentially handing him the ball is Drew Brees then he will have earned every cent of his deal before he even runs through the lanes made possible by playing with an elite quarterback. Mark Ingram is coming off a career year and undoubtedly going to get the bulk of the carries, but he's someone that has had no shortage of bumps and bruises throughout his career. Someone is going to need to take a little bit of weight off his shoulders, and why not have it be someone that's a year removed from rushing for nearly 1,500 yards? Obviously picking up a 32 year old running back is risky, but picking up 32 year old running back of Adrian Peterson's caliber on a glorified one year (2nd year option) contract that doesn't break the bank undoubtedly minimizes that risk. The Saints just got themselves another offensive weapon, and if anyone knows how to best utilize offensive weapons then it's Sean Payton.

ESPN- In late October 2014, Ingles finished up the Clippers' last preseason game while his wife, Renae, was on a flight from Australia to meet him. The Clippers waived Ingles before she landed. "I was on the team when she took off," Ingles said, "and then when she got to the airport, I wasn't. It was pretty disappointing."

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You know, I should probably feel bad for the guy who had to greet his wife, after her 15 and a half hour flight, without a job. That said, the Clippers luck has been so goddamn bad that the organization that made that awkward conversation necessary might just be more deserving of sympathy. Of course, a team that seemingly always dying for depth could use a player like the one they unceremoniously axed nearly three years ago, but the fact that his efforts are helping turn their first round series into a slugfest is unbelievably symbolic of how much Murphy's Law gets called into action whenever the Clippers are in the postseason.

First their owner was unveiled as a racist, then they got dealt multiple season-ending injuries to their star players. and now this? Their recent attempts at making a run at a title have basically been plots to 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' episodes. If Chris Paul skimped on a tip there's no doubt in my mind that the basketball gods would make sure he ended up with the most untimely case of food poisoning. If DeAndre Jordan walked past a cat stuck in a tree he would probably trip over a black kitten on his way into the Staples Center and sprain his ankle. Whatever bad juju can possibly come their way come playoff time has come their way come playoff time. It's actually insane that karma personified is averaging over 5 assists per game and toeing the line of what's fateful while Blake Griffin is helplessly sitting behind the bench representing all the other shit they have had to overcome when the games matter the most.

Oh man, to be a fly on whatever shit that guy was selling. I don't know what was more obnoxious, the "we've known each other for years" shoulder punch or the egregiously close talking. What I do know is that guy sleezed his way into those court side seats. There's not a doubt in mind thats someone else's money paid for that ticket. Maybe I shouldn't be judging a book by it's cover, but the over-the-top mannerisms of the dude in the non-matching blazer with the slicked back hair gave quite the predictable context to what was seen on the surface.

I don't know what the topic of conversation was, but Devonta Freeman seemed way too entertained by the snake who I wouldn't even let show me a used car. Truthfully, I'm glad he never made eye contact with the guy who was one more exaggerated laugh from sitting on his lap, because I'm pretty sure his eyes possess some evil enchantment that makes people trust him with their finances. He's like Medusa except one look at him inevitably turns your bank account to stone. As if having some outgoing asshole incessantly babble into your ear for the entirety of a playoff game wasn't bad enough, Devonta Freeman had to humor the type of chatterbox that doesn't shut the fuck up until he talks his way into your wallet.

P.S. Totally possible that that is Devonta Freeman's agent, and - in that case - everything I said still stands. Perhaps more so.

Uproxx- The San Antonio Spurs logo has been coopted by a local prison gang, so maybe hold off on that Spurs face tattoo for a bit until things settle down, eh?

My San Antonio caught up with some tattoo shops to see how they’ve handled the rise in Spurs tattoos associated with prison gang Tango Orejon, the San Antonio chapter of the Tango Blast prison gang. Many tattoo shops basically have to warn customers that having team pride could get them in trouble if they put a Spurs tattoo in the wrong spot.

“We won’t put it on someone’s neck or face or further down their arm where someone could see it and assume they’re associated with that gang,” said Laura Rosario, manager at the downtown San Antonio tattoo shop called Ring of Fire. “We try to make sure that they know.”

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Ha! Who says the San Antonio Spurs are boring?! They may lull people to sleep by annually winning 55-60 games of team oriented basketball by uneventfully sharing the ball, and the personalities of their star players of now and yesteryear may be lacking, but if a goddamn gang affiliation isn't enough to spice up their image then I don't know what the hell is. I suppose it sucks that diehard fans can no longer show their devotion to the team in visible ink without allying themselves with ex-cons, but at least it's now mildly bad ass to be a Spurs fan with a sports tattoo.

Plus, let's be honest here, it's about goddamn time there was some risk associated with rooting for San Antonio. What's it been, like two decades since they had to worry about fielding a team capable of winning a championship? The way I see it, every true Spurs fan should be forced to get tattoo on their forearm just so they have a reason to be concerned during the regular season. Being a sports fan is supposed to be stressful, and these happy-go-lucky assholes are just cheerfully strutting through Texas between the months of July-March without a care in the world. Seriously, it's almost offensive when Gregg Popovich acts disgruntled, because there is only like two months of year in which he can actually claim he's distressed professionally. I don't think that constantly having to keep your head on a swivel so that a rival gang member who is fresh out the clink doesn't mistake you for the son of a bitch that sodomized them in the shower equates to the anxiety that most fans feel while their team is desperately battling for a playoff spot. However, staunch supporters of a team that's not damn near a lock for title contention might vehemently disagree.

My biggest issue with this interaction wasn't that this reporter thought the bland interrogation scribbled in his notepad was far more important than it actually was. My biggest problem with this confrontation was that it was perceived to be prolonged by persistence and journalistic integrity, when - in reality - it was prolonged by greed.

Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth! This incredibly whiney dweeb had some stupid ass question lined up for a role player about why a mediocre team sucks when it's high-usage MVP candidate is off the floor. He got blessed with an inspirational - albeit totally unprovoked and unnecessary - rant led by one of the most polarizing athletes still alive in the NBA Playoffs. Russell Westbrook literally spoon fed this dude an endless amount of clicks, and he was still pushing for another course.

Christ man, go write your piece about how there's no 'I' in Thunder during this trying time, and save the "holy crap, OKC is pure, unadulterated trash when their best player is anxiously hydrating" article for after the series is over. How many emboldened quotes does one man need for his column before he passes the damn mic in the postgame presser? This uppity interviewer wouldn't have interjected when David Fizdale was preaching about data like a Jehovah's Witness, and he owes that same respect to a man/personality that makes his job exponentially easier.

PFT- The Saints have shown interest in Patriots cornerback Malcolm Butler for some time this offseason and met with him before he signed his restricted free agent tender with New England, but the need to send the 11th overall pick to the Patriots if they signed him to an offer sheet that the Patriots didn’t match was a big obstacle to bringing him to New Orleans.

Now that Butler has signed his tender, the Saints could negotiate different compensation with the Patriots in a trade. The chances of that happening may not be great, however.

Peter King of TheMMQB.com reports that the Saints still have interest, but that the thought of dealing picks for Butler before signing him to a big contract extension “is less attractive than it once seemed.” Per King, the Saints don’t want to deal any of their top three picks (No. 11, No. 32 and No. 42) because they believe they can get immediate contributors at every one of those spots.

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I'm not saying I don't believe the reports that are currently coming out. I'm just saying I only trust them as much as I can trust any report that just so happens to come out about 72 hours prior to the complete mayhem. It's very possible that Mickey Loomis and Sean Payton would rather try their luck in a deep draft than trade away an asset for the right to pay a 27 year old cornerback 50 million dollars. It's also possible - albeit reportedly less likely - that the Saints and Patriots are sitting on opposite sides of a smokescreen engaging in a staring contest seeing if anyone blinks before Thursday night. All I am saying is that you don't spend the better part of the offseason negotiating an agreed upon long term deal with someone else's property only to draw an arbitrary deadline prior to the period in which a franchise is most likely to bend on a mutually beneficial transaction.

There is nothing predictable about the NFL Draft, and the results of it could easily change someone's organizational perspective. If the Saints don't like the secondary players made available to them on Day 1 then Malcolm Butler's relative value could easily increase. If Bill Belichick falls in love with some guy who he plans to inevitably turn into an All-Pro then a cornerback on a one year deal who could potentially be disgruntled after coming oh-so-close to cashing a monster check could easily become more expendable.

Personally? I wouldn't think twice about giving up an early second round pick for a proven lockdown defensive back when the twilight of Drew Brees' career is on the horizon. I didn't think the Saints front office would either, but we will find out who is playing what hand by the end of the week. If the worst case scenario is solidifying the running back position with a low risk, high reward athletic freak who has something to prove after being humbled by free agency, and adding three young, affordable playmakers in the top 42 then the worst case scenario ain't too damn shabby.

I'll tell you what. I don't know Adam Joseph from the next stick-in-the-mud beat writer with two first names (red flag city), but - if openly finding botched free throws that are greatly increasingly your team's chances of winning an NBA playoff game hilarious is what he files under "disrespectful" then he must be a barrel of laughs in the press box. Deeming the age old practice of distracting a foul shooter "unprofessional" is a wild opinion from someone that makes their living covering sports, never mind a league that's just as concerned about their entertainment value as they are their athletic prowess. If he believes that type of virtually harmless behavior is detrimental to the brand then I can't imagine what he thought about the everything else that took place during the closing minutes of Game 4 between the Rockets and the Thunder. Not only because watching Houston's bench go full-hyena was objectively funny, but because it was just about the most professional thing that took place throughout the closing moments of the game,

You want to talk unprofessional? How about the hack-a-whoever strategy that slowed a postseason game between the the two leading MVP candidates to a snail's pace? How about Andre Roberson being so goddamn terrible at a fundamental skill that when he steps to the charity stripe his opponent is quicker to 'LOL' than a white person at a Dave Chappelle special? How about that same, offensively inept wing player forcing his point guard into a crucial late game turnover because he was flat out scared of taking the most open jump shot of all time? Andre Roberson's crunch time performance was that of a borderline D-Leaguer, so maybe an unprofessional reaction from the team that benefited from it was the most fitting of response.

You want to talk disrespectful? Pretty sure Drazen Petrovich would roll over in his grave if he saw James Harden and Russell Westbrook turn flopping and aimless prayers from beyond the arc into a sustainable form of offense. Disrespectful? The fact that the Oklahoma City Thunder let the Rockets take the ball from their own end line to halfway through a lay-up before committing a clearly necessary intentional foul is flat out offensive to even the most casual of viewer.

The final minutes of yesterday's game were basically a "what's what?" of all the things that currently plague the NBA, so how could I blame the Rockets' bench for mocking some laughable execution when I was doing the same damn thing?

I'm not at liberty to dissect the game within America's game that is - ironically enough - fighting an uphill battle to hold the interest of Americans. It would be disingenuous of me to try to shine a black light on the invisible ink with which the unwritten MLB rule book was ghostwritten. That said, I think someone might want to put a pen to some clear cut guidelines when it comes to gamesmanship, because there's an obvious disconnect when the person for which vengeance is being exacted vehemently disagrees with the extent of the vengeance. This situation reminds of the bar scene in 'The Breakup' when Vince Vaughn's character is trying to convince his goon of a brother not to have his ex-girlfriend murdered on his behalf. I don't know the right response to a guy getting cleated in the back of the leg, but you might want to check with the guy who was cleated before you decide that an ankle for an eye is an even trade.

Personally, I tend to think Manny Machado's slide was unintentional considering he immediately took his foot off the bag to hold up the guy he just spiked. I wasn't in the head of the Dominican infielder who - from my limited knowledge of his career - rarely gets the benefit of the doubt, but if that was on purpose then his flipping of the switch from malicious to compassionate sure was impressive. Still, I can see why plunking him was deemed a necessary reaction to one of their longest tenured players getting hurt from an undeniably dangerous play. I just think Matt Barnes probably should've checked the non-existent chart that would surely show that attempted decapitation should be saved for situations that are a little less inconspicuous. Especially when the two players that had their safety compromised were on the same, slightly less breakneck page.

​P.S. That pitch "got away" from Matt Barnes the same way my alcohol consumption "gets away" from me during last call. Dude knew EXACTLY what he was doing...

Look, I understand the fascination that some have regarding the prospective return of Ilya Kovalchuk to New Jersey. I just simply don't agree with it. The sledding has been undeniably tough since he officially decided he was made physically ill by the idea of remaining in America throughout the entirety of the insanely problematic contract that he spent a shitty, never-ending soap opera of a summer negotiating. Maybe watching the Devils continuously fail to ice any sort of consistent offense since their loss in the Stanley Cup Finals has deluded fans into thinking that all you need to create some is a star left winger in his prime (it's preferable if he wears #9, of course) and a 'For Hire' sniper to place alongside him. That must be what has people longing for the addition of an aging mercenary who is on the downside of his career, and - despite having a 'C' stitched above the crest of his jersey - was recently benched during a championship run in an inferior league.

If the underlying message in the previous paragraph somehow went over your head then let me make this one thing perfectly clear; I still harbor resentment for Ilya Kovalchuk. I am man enough to admit that immeasurable spite could be clouding my judgement just as the highlights from the athletic equivalent of an eternity ago could be clouding the judgment of those that think the Devils are one signature away from scooping up a point-per-game workhorse.

I know the timing of his exodus was a blessing in disguise considering the odds of him dying of old age while on the Devils' payroll were equal to that of him actually playing his way off it. I also know there's a strong likelihood that his abrupt departure was premeditated and mutually agreed upon by Lou Lamoriello. Those circumstances, however, didn't soften the blow when the New Jersey Devils' organization had a pretentious, Russian rug pulled out from underneath them on the heels of losing their captain to free agency. Regardless of whether I am forced to root for him again or not, I will never forget the sinking feeling of dejection that overcame me when I discovered the moronic retirement rumor I kept reading about really was true. Kovalchuk's narcissistic need to be the NHL's first 100 million dollar man somehow cost the franchise that offered it to him more than money. It cost them a lottery pick that - ironically enough - could have eased the pain caused by a grown man's "homesickness".

So yeah, excuuuuse me if I am a little reluctant to bend over and spread my proverbial cheeks for a guy who has gotten his and skirted the fuck out of town before. I liken the seducing mental image of Kovy ripping his patented, bar-down snapshot in a Devils jersey to sex with an ex. It's great in theory...until "giving it another try" proves to be a waste of time once you realize things have only changed for the worse. I said I would never again trust a Russian player, and I'll be damned if I am going to change that philosophy for the person whose actions had it implemented.

Now, as often as I have left grudges effect my opinion, I can't sit here and tell you that you one of the most physically gifted hockey players in history has completely run out of gas. He might not be every bit as fit, but he doesn't need an electronic wristlet to be able to count the amount of steps he's lost. The idea that shooting is the most timeless skill was concocted in basketball circles, but it holds true here as well. Ilya Kovalchuk still has a clapper that could add firepower to a struggling power play. He still has the creativity to give even the most dynamic team a scoring boost. He's still guaranteed to inject energy into a hapless building with a celebration that will probably be egregiously overzealous considering it's sure to come following a 2nd period goal during a Wednesday night loss in mid-November.

In essence, what I am saying is that Ilya Kovalchuk is an excellent...wait for it...asset, and that itexactly how he should be treated by an organization that's not going to be competing for anything - with him or without him - until after his transmission (i.e. back) has given out. Ilya Kovalchuk would be a younger, more unlikeable Jaromir Jagr. He would be a half-dedicated, less appreciative Scott Gomez. He would be a mildly productive player on a pretty bad team that serves as nothing more than a distraction to fans that are too goddamn impatient to fully invest in the big picture so they are easily amused by short term value in a vacuum.

You don't rebuild a team - from the ground up, might I add - by taking a a piece of the foundation that proved unreliable in the first place and trying to reuse it 5 years later. This isn't just an indictment on Ilya Kovalchuk's relative worth to a young, inexperienced Devils' locker room. It's an indictment on the relative worth ofany and all 34 year old, puck dominant wingers with limited leadership qualities to a young, inexperienced Devils' locker room. Ray Shero has yet to piss away money and opportunity on a player whose role would be to play the dangling set of keys to the babies that can't stop crying about the Devils going through a long-procrastinated down period for the first time in two plus decades. I hope he wouldn't switch his view for someone who fancies staring at himself in the mirror a hobby, because - at this stage of his career - Ilya Kovalchuk can help a winning team win a little more but he's certainly not capable of turning a losing team into a winner.

For comparison's sake, there's a reason a significantly younger defect like Andrei Radulov ended up in Montreal instead of talented-starved Phoenix or Buffalo, and it's not because the vodka is better distilled north of the border. Whatever a vulnerable team like the Devils would stand to gain from watching their season devolve into an outdated retread of the 'The Kovy Show' would easily be outweighed by the stunting of their developmental progress. Bringing aboard a polarizing player from the past is - in no way - a move geared towards creating a more successful future, and that's what New Jersey is ultimately trying to accomplish.

Granted, it's impossible to know whether or not the player/draft pick they could potentially trade him for fits the bill as a long term solution, but I'd be more than willing to find out as opposed to giving up my bad blood for a couple more charitable victories. Especially from a team that's at least two top-4 defensemen away from sniffing the postseason. Kovy might move the needle for some people but he doesn't move the puck from the backend, so - as far as I am concerned - he can take his eroding talents to a franchise that didn't already get hoodwinked into thinking they would be around forever.

(As of the time I am writing this, 41% of the idiots that listen to Keyshawn spew complete bullshit out of his mouth-anus wouldn't want LeBron to come to Los Angeles)

I know what you are thinking. Seems silly that Lakers fans welcomed a half-dead Gary Payton, a broken Karl Malone, a cancerous Dwight Howard, and the corpse of Steve Nash to town with open arms, but poo-poo the idea of adding potentially the best and most durable player of all time. Guess some people forgot that Los Angeles isn't just concerned with winning anymore. There's a new sheriff in town and he's one that is more concerned with winning the right way. I bet Magic Johnson doesn't even think championships count if they are won by teams that weren't built solely through the draft. Can you imagine bringing in a player that could turn a decent, up-and-coming team into an instant title contender? YUCK! No. Fucking. Thanks. Straight from college or BUST. You know what they say, there's nothing free about free agency!

Man, I hope someone lets LeBron know that he's not wanted in a city that totally hates star power before he packs up his shit and moves to Hollywood out of desperation to play with D'Angelo Russell. Wouldn't want to have to tell him "no" for literally the first time in his entire life right to his face!​ That would be even more awkward than having a full-on debate about the addition of a player that has vehemently rejected the idea playing in your city at every turn!

Really? Really, San Jose? I'm all for teams going back-and-forth fucking with each other's gameday preparation, but you can't deny your opponent literally the only two things that they need to hold an effective practice - electricity and nets - and then whine when they clap back with excessive zamboni'ing.

A seven game series is a mental and physical battle, and I must say that the Oilers currently have the edge. I suppose you probably could have made that conclusion on your own after watching them almost score the game-winning overtime goal about 37 times before they actually did score the game winning overtime goal that brought the Sharks to the brink of elimination. However, if I were kept up to date on the state of the gamesmanship between the teams then I obviously would have predicted an Edmonton victory last night.

How could I not? The veteran laden team that initiated this prank war of sorts assumed the role of the younger brother by throwing the first stone and immediately running to hide behind mommy (the media) when the young, inexperienced kids tried to retaliate? Pathetic, just pathetic. It's one thing for beat reporters to pick up on the fact that the team they cover is skating around in the dark with nothing to shoot at, but it's far more egregious to prematurely board the excuse train when you still have business to take care of prior to heading home. Dry those eyes Sharks fans, because your team didn't slip up because the ice was "too wet". They slipped up because they started something they couldn't handle finishing. Sounds a lot like their actual performance last night if you ask me.

...I'm not so sure that it was. I could be wrong, but every time I have heard the 'Greek Freak' speak he's always been insanely happy-go-lucky and humble. Maybe the collective pettiness of the NBA has finally rubbed off on him, but - without hearing the preceding question - I don't think it's crazy to assume that his answer was more of a statement of truth than an underhanded insult.

I didn't know this would ever be up for discussion, but we just got come clarification. When you are an NBA star you have to shoot 0% from the floor in a playoff game for a simple, matter-of-fact reading of your stats to come off as a third-degree burn that has the internet acting like the crowd at the 'And 1 Mixtape Tour'. DeMar DeRozan just got absolutely roasted....by his own numbers. His performance got torched...by one line on a sheet of paper. A potentially innocent answer to the media...had the basketball world like...

Not to be overly critical, but DeMar DeRozan might want to come out in Game 4 and try to send a message...by scoring one single bucket. I think it's safe to say that Giannis already sent his...with this absurd elbow block...

PuckDaddy- Don Henderson, the NHL linesman injured in an infamous on-ice incident last season, is suing Calgary Flames defenseman Dennis Wideman and the team for $10.25 million, according to TSN and CTV.

Wideman assaulted Henderson in a January 27, 2016, Flames game against the Nashville Predators. Wideman cross-checked Henderson, seemingly out of nowhere, concussing the linesman. He was suspended by the NHL for 20 games, before it was reduced to 10 games on appeal.

According to Chris Epp of CTV, Henderson is claiming that Wideman cost him $10 million in lost revenue, future revenue and future earning capacity. He calls the incident an “attack” and that Wideman was “aware that (he) remained unsuspecting and was completely defenseless.”

He hasn’t officiated a game since the incident. There was a report in July 2016 that Henderson underwent neck surgery. In January 2017, former NHL referee Paul Stewart wrote about Henderson, saying: “My advice to him would be to go for the throat, the wallet and the vault. His career is done.”

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Here's what we are not going to do. We are not going to sit here like jealous assholes and say "man, I would totally get crosschecked from behind by an professional hockey player for 10 million dollars" route. Obviously everyone would agree to that tradeoff, but not everyone would subject themselves to a career as thankless as being an NHL official if they didn't know ahead of time that it would result in an 8-figure pay off from a dimwitted defenseman. I don't even care if you think this lawsuit is a bit heavy-handed, because you aren't even capable of doing the job that Don Henderson was maliciously attacked from behind while doing. Seriously, heed my advice. I hate referees as much as the next guy, but taking the player's side or making it seem like the victim who needed neck surgery is out of line for trying to get his money's worth is sure to make you look like a complete jackass.

And look, I'm not calling the medical reports fabricated, but I too did my best interpretation of the chin scratching, "hmm" emoji when I read that the one hit in question was responsible for a list of physical and mental injuries/disabilities that reads like someone who survived a plane crash while returning home from being a prisoner of war...

Still - regardless of whether or not Don Henderson's suffering is slightly exaggerated - I completely support his efforts to grab Dennis Wideman and the Calgary Flames by the ankles and shake the shit out of them until he walks away with every last penny in their pockets. Hell, even if rubbing one out with his right arm didn't constantly feel like a stranger was giving him a handy I would still encourage him to force this up to the highest of courts. If all he had was a nosebleed, a scraped knee, and a bruised ego I'd still be happy to see him laugh all the way to the bank.

Do you know how much it must suck to discipline overly emotional players that always disagree with you and never shut the fuck up? Having every decision you make at your job dissected and criticized from all angles sounds just about as stressful as constantly worrying about someone running you into boards from behind because the whistle they were waiting for never came. I don't doubt that Don Henderson is physically incapable of working, but - if I were him - it wouldn't even matter if I were spry as a spring chicken, because I would still look for the quickest and most profitable way out of being a professional scapegoat. I hope he eventually has a complete recovery and shows up front row in Calgary just to throw crumpled up Benjy's at Dennis Wideman during warmups, because - as much as I have probably cursed his existence over the years - he's earned the opportunity to return the favor and treat others like lesser human beings.

I find it exceedingly odd how much resentment Junior Galette harbors for the organization that not only gave an undrafted free agent a chance, but showed their faith in him when he appeared deserving of an expensive, long term commitment. Obviously the term "responsibility" is foreign to the defensive end that has more arrests than snaps played over the last two seasons, but I still can't wrap my head around Junior Galette thinking that he's the one that is owed vengeance. The idea that he saw the schedule and said to himself "I can't wait to stick to those idiots who cut me" after he did everything in his power to get cut is beyond fucking infuriating.

I'd give a quick refresher course, but the font in the rest of this article would look like it were written in blood if I had to provide a link for each incident - criminal or otherwise - that had the world's dumbest athlete prematurely released from a deal that ended up causing nearly as many headaches as the person it was given to. For all intents and purpose, Junior Galette ended his tenure in New Orleans by repeatedly shooting himself in the foot. The Saints may have been the ones that gave him the gun (his contract) and quickly backed away as he hobbled around throwing a flurry of n-bombs at his head coach on social media, but I fail to see how that makes them deserving of the return fire.

I guess I understand why he's failed to move on after all this time since he has literally has not played a SINGLE meaningful football game since, but you would think he'd be more careful about assuming he'll still be an NFL employee come November 19th. He probably has no idea what an "omen" is, but when you've followed up back-to-back ACL tears with yet another run-in with the law and you're on an easily dismissible one year deal it's probably safer to not assume your job is secure. I can't imagine Junior Galette is the type to heed advice, but if I were him I would worry about making it through training camp healthy and employed before worrying about facing the team whose salary cap he took the messiest of shits on.

P.S. I need the visual of Junior Galette sitting on his couch (or in a holding cell) come November 19th with his arms crossed so that his tattoos look the animation from the old NFL intros where the helmets of the teams who were playing would clash together. NEED IT.

I'm damn near certain this was tongue-in-cheek. Bomani Jones doesn't strike me as some sort of snowflake that's going to throw the word "shaming" around unless it's in an effort to casually poke fun of those that are way too quick to throw the word "shaming" around. I saw a headline on this exact subject that started off 'ESPN On ESPN Crime...' and not only is that a colossal overstatement of what took place in this interaction, but it's a misreading of the situation that's characteristic of someone whose Wonderlic is deserving of shame.

That said, if - and only if - "Wonderlic shaming" were actually a thing, then this would definitely be an example of it. It's one thing to make scores public. That's relevant news considering it could have an impact on draft position. Comparing those scores to that of truck drivers and train conductors? Well - for lack of a more accurate term - that's just mean. If I'm analyzing NFL prospects I should probably know that Leonard Fournette's ability to think critically is subpar compared to that of his peers. That said, I definitely don't need to know that Dalvin Cook is intellectually incapable of cleaning my toilet.

Telling a fat person their weight when they step off the scale at the doctor's office isn't "fat shaming". Having a list of farm animals with which their body fat % closely corresponds posted next to the scale absolutely is. Calling a polygamous woman promiscuous isn't "slut shaming". Comparing the looseness of her vagina to the waist on your oldest pair of jeans that haven't been washed since the Bush administration just might be though. I appreciate Darren Rovell posting an occupational comparison chart because I personally think it's interesting. However, I'm not a physical freak that's going to be drafted in the top ten that just had some sports business dork remind him that this football thing better work out because he doesn't even have the brain power for the mail room. It's not necessarily wrong, but it is a little unnecessary.

I'm embarrassed. I might even go as far as saying I am ashamed. I consider myself a hockey fan, and if you had asked me to quickly explain Erik Karlsson's play prior to the playoffs I would have more than likely told you he's an elite offensive defenseman. What this series is teaching those - like myself - that haven't watched nearly enough Senators' hockey is how much of a massive disservice that would be to what he brings to the table. He may not be out there delivering Scott Stevens-esque body checks or put opposing offenses to sleep in his own zone a la Nicklas Lidstrom, but - if these numbers are any indication - he's had a very similar impact on the game...

Differentials for the Senators as a team at 5-on-5 with Karlsson on the ice vs. without him. It's almost like it's two different teams. pic.twitter.com/H9LjYNvTXT

Honestly, those stats somehow make less sense than the game winning slap pass that had so little margin for error that Bobby Ryan had to suspend disbelief just to cradle it on his backhand and slide it into the open side of the net. They left as much slack in my jaw as the 10 foot saucer that reached the eye-level of those sitting in the 8th row only to float perfectly down on to the tape of Mike Hoffman on a breakaway. Those are not only the splits of someone that was born the day before the bantam deadline and went through puberty before every single one of his peers. They are the differentials of someone that is flat out controlling postseason hockey games from the backend, and the backend isn't even where he makes his presence the most felt.

So yeah, I probably deserve more than a couple slaps on the wrist for merely considering Erik Karlsson to be a great player as a opposed to the dominant force he's been thus far. He's fit a season's worth of highlights into what has been - to this point - a 4 game series, and the sickening part is that he hasn't even scored a goal yet. He may not be your prototypical defenseman that is going to allow his bench to take deep breathes while the puck is circling behind their net, but - statistically speaking - far more often not he'll make sure the puck isn't remotely close to their net. Even if it requires him to throw a picture perfect Hail Mary pass from his own goal line in which the closest defender ended up being the JumboTron....
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Amazing how time's have changed. I'm awful at judging the ages of kids, but I would imagine the day this little guy entered the world was a day in which aspiring to be Phil Kessel would get you sent straight to boarding school. No, not the type of boarding school that can drastically enhance your chances of playing hockey for a living, but the type of boarding school that's used as a last ditch effort to beat some ambition into your child. Two-four(?) short years later and his mother is now hoping that her baby's chubby cheeks stay that way well into his formative years when they'll hopefully sprout a disheveled ginger beard.

From a guy that was so hated that he had beat writers fabricating stories about his fictitious, yet awe-inspiring consumption of processed meat to a veritable point producing machine for a reigning Stanley Cup Champion. What a world. This mother would be ecstatic if her son turned out to be an overweight professional hockey player who looks 15 years older than he skates and whose hair receded quicker than his negative reputation. I'm pretty certain that's not something she could have said when his umbilical cord was cut.

First and foremost, I absolutely love the "I'm not a numbers guy, but I can count on my fingers and this bullshit doesn't add up" narrative of this rant. Even the most simplistic of math is so much more damning when it comes from someone that hates math. If some analytics driven asshole was up there spouting off figures I would have lost interest, but once David Fizdale included a disclaimer that basically amounted to "this was my least favorite subject in school" I was all-in on whatever followed.

And what followed was a $30,000 critique of the officials that was worth every penny in terms of entertainment. Whether or not it inspires his team to make this a competitive series or has a lasting impact on the way the games are called going forward remains to be seen, but the fact that David Fizdale got fined a minimum wage salary and isn't paying a cent of it is some pretty telling data. Financially it was probably the right thing for the Grizzlies to do since Mike Conley's mode of transportation might as well be a Brinks truck after last summer, but still a nice gesture. Memphis has a snowball's chance in hell regardless of who is picking up the tab, but still cool to see a team have their coach's back when he battled the scholastic demons of his youth to have theirs. The Spurs might be playing chess while the Grizzles are playing checkers, but you ain't gon' rook David Fizdale without him flipping the board on your ass.